


The Other Side of the Story

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Caning, Gen, Paddling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to the past helps Sam gain a fuller understanding of the sacrifices his brother has made for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side of the Story

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Story contains abusive corporeal punishment of a student by a school administrator. 
> 
> Author’s Note: Story written for spn_blindfold prompt - _Sam travels back in time to "After School Special" era, and discovers that the school Dean hated so much was using corporal punishment to control its difficult students, including Dean. Sam rescues Dean. Comfort can lead to wincest or not._ This story follows the no wincest option.

Principal Givens leaned back against his immaculately organized desk. His arms crossed disapprovingly over his chest, a scowl gnarling his face as his eyes narrowed. Dean wanted to tell the old guy his face was going to stick like that, but his ass was already in enough trouble.

“Do you simply despise sitting, Mr. Winchester?” At the smug question the man set his hand on the paddle lying on the desk beside him. 

Dean glared at the jerk before he followed the man’s eyes to the now familiar implement of destruction. “Yeah. Maybe you could write a note excusing me from sitting.” 

“The only note I’ll be writing you is for detention. Long hours of sitting in a nice, hard chair. You’re not learning and until you do we’re going to continue to see a lot of each other.” 

“You’re really not my type.” 

“If I were you, I’d focus less on being cute and more on helping me to understand why you are incapable of behaving like a civilized human being. If sitting isn’t your problem maybe you simply enjoy beating children?” 

“Hey! Those jerks were after my brother. They deserved a pounding.” 

“That’s not for you to decide. I am the only one here with the authority to administer discipline.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered. 

There was no point in making a fuss. If he didn’t just take what he had coming then the school would call Dad and Dad so didn’t need to deal with this crap right now. Silently he watched Principal Givens push off the desk and go to the door. A miserable groan escaped him, knowing that hot secretary at the front desk was going to be called in to sign off as a witness to his fine ass getting some more love taps. 

The holes in the large paddle made it look scary as hell. Principal Givens had a pretty good swing and for a lot of kids it probably was a seriously painful thing. He wasn’t most kids. Considering how banged up he got hunting even the full brunt of the three whacks the principal was allowed were an uncomfortable and embarrassing annoyance at worst. 

“Mary Ann, you can take your lunch break now.” 

Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion at Principal Givens's words. Through the doorway the woman shot him a concerned glance. He looked to her questioningly only to have her quickly avert her eyes, mumble a ‘yes sir’ and get up from her desk. Before leaving the main office she hung a sign on the door, locking it behind her. An uneasy filling stirred in Dean’s gut as the principal also shut the door to his office. 

The man lifted the paddle and looked at it musingly before meeting Dean’s eyes. “The thing is, Winchester, what we’ve been doing hasn't been working.” Dean swallowed hard, for once choosing to keep his big mouth shut. The principal walked over to the window and turned the cord on the blinds to shut them. “Drop your pants.” 

While he tried to convince himself that he’d heard the man wrong, he knew he hadn’t. Dean took a wary step back. “Look, dude, it ain’t my fault you can’t get laid.” 

“It’s just that sort of attitude that has you in this mess. Pants down, braced on the desk as usual.” 

“Screw that,” Dean shot back. “And screw you while you’re at it.” 

Dean turned to leave. He’d already had enough of this crap school, he didn’t need this too. Before he reached the door, the principal grabbed him, clutching his arm hard through Dad’s leather jacket. 

“You got two seconds to get your damn hand off me,” Dean warned. 

Right now he would give just about anything to nail the guy right in the middle of his smug face. That instant of satisfaction though would mean having to come up with a hell of an explanation for Dad. 

“I could call in your brother instead.” 

The floor fell out from beneath him and Dean’s eyes widened in disbelief. This principal had some serious balls to even talk about his brother. “You can’t do that.” 

“I assure you, I can,” Principal Givens replied. The man had yet to ease the pressure on Dean’s now aching bicep. “It’s my responsibility to see to the safety of the student body. You and your brother have been nothing but trouble since the day you arrived. We have no place here for people like you. Now should I have your brother excused from class?” 

With a rough jerk, Dean pulled his arm free. He hesitated for only a brief moment before unbuttoning his jeans. “Man, when my dad finds out...” 

“And what exactly will you tell your father? We could start with what an insolent, disobedient little punk you are.” 

“Or that you’re a sick son of a bitch that likes beating students for kicks.” 

“If you want your brother to come in for an appointment, you tell him that.” With a bitter smirk Dean shoved his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles. “This truly is for your own good. Your father failed miserably in teaching you proper manners, someone has to pick up the pieces for society's sake.” 

“You nail my ass all you want, but you shut up about my dad.” 

“Hands on the edge of the desk. They leave the desk and we start over.” 

Dean did as he was told, standing stubbornly rigid, white knuckles gripping the edge of the desk as he waited for the principal to get down to business. A sharp gasp slipped from his lips as the man behind him yanked down his boxers as well. He shifted awkwardly as if there was someway he could stand that would make him less exposed. 

“You even think about touching the merchandise and I’ll kill you,” Dean promised. 

“The next word out of your mouth needs to be the number one. I assume you’ve paid at least enough attention in class that you can count to seventeen.” 

“Bite me.” 

“Thirty it is.” 

The cool wood of the paddle tapped against his bare skin, his muscles instinctively clenching in anticipation of the pain. He grunted as the first crack lifted him onto his toes. The bastard wasn’t pulling any punches this time. He thought the worst part would be the old pervert staring at his bare ass, but after the first few merciless strokes the blistering pain flared over his backside. 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and settled in. He could take this son of a bitch, no problem, but he wasn’t going to risk Sam being the one here, or Dad getting in trouble, just to save himself the ability to sit. This was just another reason to hate this crappy school and he’d get through it. There was a pause in the stinging swats and Dean realized he was supposed to be saying something. 

“Uh...Seven?” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Not really,” Dean huffed impatiently. 

“We’ll begin again. Looks as if we’ll be needing to work on your math skills after all.”   
~~~

Sam still had no clue what he was supposed to get out of this trip down memory lane. He’d seen himself and Barry go against Dirk. He’d seen Mr. Wyatt step in. Everything was playing out exactly like he remembered and he already knew how this ended. There wasn’t anything new to learn. 

What was really nagging at him was not what he had seen, but what he hadn’t. 

It wouldn’t have been unusual for Dean to play hookie. By this point his brother had basically been through with the whole school thing anyway. Dean had just stayed in it for the girls. The thing that unnerved Sam was that he had been told this was about Dean. It didn’t add up that they’d send him to a place that Dean wasn’t. 

Sam checked Dean’s favorite janitor closet and every other hiding spot Dean might have found tantalizing. That only left going to the source and figuring out where his brother was supposed to be right now. It was a long shot to think that he would actually find Dean in class, but he was out of options. 

When Sam reached the office an out to lunch sign was posted at the door. He didn’t have time to wait around and he was more than capable of looking up the information himself. After a quick glance down the empty hall, he worked the lock on the door and slipped into the office. 

Immediately he heard the sound of something slicing against flesh followed by a cry of pain. Sam knew that cry. He broke out into a run. As he followed the sound, another hit and another ragged moan. 

An ache built in his chest as he heard a pained voice. “Fifteen…I said fifteen you damn son of a bitch!” 

The voice wasn’t as deep as his brother’s usually was, but it was unquestionably Dean. With the recognition, nothing could have stopped Sam. He surged down the hall and burst through the door that he vaguely acknowledged was marked as the principal’s office. Once insde, he was halted by the scene before him. 

Dean, or at least a much younger version of him, was bent over a desk bracing himself with shaky arms. His legs were spread as wide as the tangle of boxers and pants at his feet would allow. The breaths came from him in quick, shallow gasps. 

With a slightly deeper breath, Dean squeezed his eyes closed, the pain further twisting his face before Dean tried to bury his head closer to his chest. Sam’s eyes were held by the stream of tears dripping from the tip of Dean's nose. He had never seen Dean let himself cry like that. Not in public. Not ever. 

Reluctantly, Sam's gaze traveled down Dean’s exposed rear and thighs. The muscles were clearly exhausted and the skin was brutally red, no doubt thanks to the paddle that lay forgotten on the desk in front of Dean’s face. An older man in a decent suit stood frozen behind Dean with a cane pulled back to strike. 

“What are you doing?” Sam's voice was a dangerous mix of disbelief and rage. 

Without waiting for a reply, Sam closed the distance and used his superior size to loom over the man. Nothing could be said to justify this. Easily he jerked the cane from the man’s hands. For the briefest moment Sam felt the weight of the flexible rod before tossing it aside with horrified disgust. 

While Sam seethed, the man, who he hoped like hell wasn’t actually the principal, attempted to recover his composure. “Sir, you have no right to be in here. This is a disciplinary matter.” 

“A disciplinary...” Sam’s voice trailed off as his shocked eyes returned to Dean. 

The younger version of his brother was half slumped over the desk. From the rear view Sam could see the full extent of the paddle’s work over the uneasily twitching muscles of his brother’s backside. The even, deep red was striped with raising welts from just below his lower back down to the center of his thighs. 

“You’re torturing him.” 

“This boy has been in here enough times to be fully aware of the consequences. Our school has an exceptionally high success rate of reform.” 

The new information ran through Sam’s head in a flurry too fast for his mind to make sense of any of it. There was only one thing he knew for certain. He was getting his brother away from here. 

“Dean, get dressed.” 

His brother startled at the use of his name, looking warily over his shoulder. Sam winced as he got a full view of the wet streaks that flowed down Dean’s cheeks. Even though he was nearly eighteen, this Dean looked small and vulnerable compared to the Dean he knew. He was all wiry muscles pulled over a lanky form. His hands were unsteady as he stood and angrily swiped the tears from his face. 

“Who the hell are you?” Dean asked suspiciously, stifling a moan as he tentatively pulled denim over his abused skin. 

“Let’s just get out of here.” If they stayed any longer Sam was going to take a lesson from his Dean and unload a clip into the man staring indignantly at his hurting brother. “You pull another stunt like that and I won’t bother reporting you.” Sam's warning carried a venomous tone that would have made Dad proud. 

Turning his back on the man, Sam ushered his stunned brother out of the office. Dean walked alongside him, but kept his distance. His cheeks were flushed, but his breathing had leveled out. As he walked his tight jeans were obviously chafing painfully against his welted skin. 

Sam remembered the Dean from his childhood as having been huge and unstoppable. Now he was looking down at that same titan – a lonely, scared boy swimming in his dad’s oversized jacket and fighting tooth and nail to hold everything together. 

His arms wrapped protectively around himself as he put all his effort into walking like it didn’t hurt, fighting to keep up that image Sam remembered. As a kid Sam had never seen Dean vulnerable. Maybe he just had never let himself see it. 

When they were behind the school Dean abruptly stopped walking. He lifted his head without meeting Sam’s eyes. “So what do you want?” 

“What?” 

“Dude, I know I’ve seen you somewhere before and I’m not an idiot. You so didn’t just bust in there like some freakin’ guardian angel to save my ass. You want something.” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed on this younger version of his brother who looked wary and uncertain. “All I wanted was for that guy to stop hurting you.” 

“Yeah right,” Dean scoffed. 

“You think the only reason I’d stop someone from hurting you is because I want something?” 

Dean shrugged and started walking again. “No one does me a favor just because.” 

In his memory Dean had always been confident and at ease. At first Sam didn’t know what to make of this suspicious version, but a sadness settled over him as he realized it made perfect sense. Whenever Dad had been out of town, Dean had been the first, last and only line of defense for their family. With people like this school’s principal, Dean had every reason to be mistrustful, but Sam instinctually needed Dean to trust him. 

“Your dad helps people and doesn’t ask for anything in return.” 

This time it was Dean’s eyes that narrowed. “Yeah, well, my dad’s not like most people. He’s a hero.” 

“I know. Him and I have been on a few hunts together. I was in town and he wanted me to check in on you.” 

Dean looked suspicious, but seemed to consider it. Sam knew it wouldn’t have been like Dad to check up on them. There just wasn’t any other half believable thing he could say. As kids they hadn’t had ties to anyone else except for a few of Dad’s friends. His only other option was admitting to being Dean’s brother from the future and that wasn’t happening. 

A frown deeply creased Dean's young features as he let out a disappointed sigh. “I guess that figures." 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” The frustration in Dean’s eyes melted to concern. “But Dad’s okay?” 

“He’s fine. He’s just gonna be a little longer than he thought.” 

“Awesome.” Dean’s hand unconsciously went to the seat of his pants. “I wish he’d hurry the hell up. This school sucks.” 

“Do you need me to take a look at it?” Sam asked with a nod towards Dean’s tentatively massaging hand. 

“My ass? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dean snarked. “I don’t need anyone ogling over me just ‘cause I got beat by some bastard I could freakin’ bench press.” 

Sam had been so focused on how small Dean looked in his eyes that he had nearly forgotten just how much force even this version of Dean was capable of. Even at this age, his brother was already an experienced hunter. Dean could have easily taken the pathetic excuse for a principal. 

“Why’d you let him do it?” 

“Didn’t have a choice.” 

Sam’s raised brows silently urged Dean for further explanation. They had stopped beneath the shade of an old oak. Dean leaned sideways against it, careful not to brush his backside. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his jacket while he looked to the ground, kicking some rocks around with his worn boot. Suddenly his still glistening eyes shot up with a startling intensity. 

“He was gonna hurt my brother,” Dean continued. “I gotta look out for that kid. He’s the only reason I haven’t ditched this whole school crap.” 

A suffocating guilt washed over Sam. It wasn’t only that Dean had taken this kind of abuse for him or that he’d stayed in school just to keep an eye on him - it was that he had never known. He’d never even stopped to consider it. 

“You take a lot of beatings for him?” Sam asked. His tone was uneasy, but Dean seemed too lost in his own thoughts to notice. 

“Every one I can.” Dean’s distant eyes began to look nervous. “Please don’t tell my dad.” 

“Don’t you think he’d want to know that someone’s hurting you?” 

“He’s got important stuff to take care of and I can handle it.” Dean’s eyes were pleading now. “I just...I don’t want him to think I can’t do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“Watch out for Sammy.” 

Sam stepped in closer and probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Dean took a step back, but at least he had his brother’s attention. “That’s not why he sent me, Dean. He didn’t want me to check up on what you were doing, he wanted me to check up on you. To make sure you were doing okay.” 

His heart clenched in his chest at the shock that crossed Dean’s face. It was painfully clear that Dean simultaneously didn’t believe that and desperately needed to. 

“He’s proud of you, Dean. And someday, Sam’s gonna know everything you’ve sacrificed for him.” 

“I wish he didn’t have to.” 

Despite that insistence, a rare look of peace settled over young Dean's face. Sam wished that he didn’t know everything that this younger version of his brother had yet to face. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to change that future, but he would settle for changing Dean’s present.


End file.
